Steel and Water
by vaetta
Summary: Fantasy AU. Mathias Køhler is unhappy with his mundane life, yearning for an adventure to come and sweep him off his feet. After a thrilling encounter with a strange forest creature, Mathias follows the mysterious 'Lukas' through a spiral of events that will change him forever.
1. Chapter One: Bound

Hey there! This story will be focused on the DenNor pairing, exploring old Scandinavian folklore. Thanks a ton to scarlet-flames-of-wrath for giving me the inspiration for the story, and to Vermillion Jay for being my wonderful beta. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own hetalia.

* * *

"O ships of mine, whose swift keels cleft

The enchanted sea on which they sailed,

Are these poor fragments only left

Of vain desires and hopes that failed?"

\- John Greenleaf Whittier

* * *

"You _idiot._ You - you _imbecile_ , what have you _done_?" Berwald's hands curled into fists as he stared at his older brother, incredulous.

"Don't you get it, Ber? This is what we've been dreaming of! We've finally got everything we need to get out of this god-forsaken village!"

"Everything? _Everything_? Mathias, we have _nothing_ , because of you! You've just sold all've our grain for a fucking _horse_!"

Mathias stepped back, faltering under his brother's ire. The kid was only 17, but he towered over Mathias by several inches. "I thought you'd be happy! Remember what we used to talk about when we were kids? That one day we'd ride away and explore new worlds, make something of ourselves?"

"Mathias we were _children_." Berwald paused and closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, but still quivered with barely contained anger. "Things are different now. We can't keep living in a fairytale. You're 19 years old - it's time to be realistic. All that matters now is paying our debts and making sure we have enough grain to survive the winter - grain which you've just _sold_!"

"For god's sake, Berwald, when did you get so cynical?" Mathias waved his arms in exasperation. "What happened to the cute kid who loved to carve wooden toys and wanted to be a unicorn?"

"That kid grew up," bit Berwald, "And it's time you did too, before you ruin _my_ life just like you ruin everything else."

Mathias paused, taken aback, but quickly recomposed himself. "Hell, Berwald, if I'm that terrible, then maybe I should go by myself!"

"Maybe you should."

Mathias froze. His words had just been for emphasis, he'd hardly expected his brother to agree.

"…Fine." Mathias rocked back on his heels, face closing off. "If that's what you really want, then I guess I will."

As he turned to gather his cloak and satchel, Mathias waited for his brother to stop him, to tell him to come back, that they could work it out.

The call never came.

* * *

Forests are filled with life, and are yet one of the loneliest places on earth. It's easy to lose yourself among the thistles. The vigilant trees blur into the reminders of your own imagination, taking the forms of personal ghosts and coveted demons. They loom over you, silent, a whisper of a breath down the back of your neck. There's no-one there to reassure you, and you've no choice but to retreat into your own mind.

There's no privacy in your head. If you try to hide things from yourself, the pit of your stomach will itch, because you'll never properly believe it. When you're alone in a forest, you gotta listen to your thoughts, or let the itching eat you.

Mathias felt the uneasiness settle in his bones as he regarded the woods around him. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea, running away. In his haste, he'd forgotten the damn horse that had caused this mess in the first place, forcing him to travel on foot. But, if Mathias Køhler were any two things, he was an idiot, and he was prideful. It was a combination of the two that prevented him from biting his lip and accepting the hopelessness of his situation. He knew he'd return home later, but not for a few hours yet. He wanted Berwald to feel guilty, to swallow his words and apologize for being so cruel.

After all, they only had each-other. He and Berwald were something of outcasts in their small community - Mathias was viewed as the village idiot, a drunk. But, he supposed, it wasn't quite as unfortunate a situation as Berwald's. Standing at an impressive six feet, five inches, Berwald was a man of few words and myriad glares. Suitably, about half the village was terrified of him. He was the kind of man that kids would approach on a dare, poking him and running away squealing.

Few had ever taken the time to see the real Berwald. The man was, in reality, quite tame in temper - the only person able to light his anger quite so much being his older brother. He loved nothing more than the smile that split a child's face when he offered them one of his little wooden figures. He carved them himself, hundreds of them. When they were children, Berwald dreamed of moving to the city and opening a little toyshop.

Mathias had always wanted to be a knight. In all honesty, the occupation would have suited him poorly. Mathias was never one for rules, nor was he any good at following authority. He was loud, almost obnoxiously cheerful, and was seldom seen without a beer and a grin. Real knights were about as stiff as Berwald's wooden figures, their swords guided by the king and their eyes covered by their helmets. Mathias just wanted riches, a shiny weapon, and admiration. Of course, there was scarcely a boy in the world that didn't yearn for the same things, but Mathias was poor, and Mathias was naive, and Mathias preferred a life of dreams to the challenges of reality.

Unfortunately, where there were dreams, disappointment and desperation always followed. Mathias didn't _want_ to destroy the stable life he'd built with his brother, but the desperation nipping at his skin was growing unbearable. It tickled and stung until his body, against his better judgment, screamed for him to get up and run. Even as a child, Mathias could never sit still.

He was jolted from his musings as his sleeve caught on a stray branch, tearing a hole in the thin fabric. His day was getting progressively worse, and, even through the thick cover of trees, he could tell that night was fast approaching. As the sun grew heavy and sunk below the horizon, the air took on a sharp chill that turned his hands numb and his cheeks rosy. It was beginning to look like going home was the best course of action, lest he find himself completely lost.

Mathias shifted his satchel and began to turn back, but was stopped in his tracks by a soft noise. It was quiet, almost imperceptible, but the thin notes threaded into his skin, making him tingle to the marrow of his bones. Like a puppet on a string, Mathias followed, the noise leading him deeper into the dark of the forest. Though the sound grew clearer, his head grew blurred, thoughts muffled and body swaying with vertigo. As dizzy as he was, his steps were steady. As Mathias ventured closer to the source of the noise, he was able to identify it as a song. The tune was familiar somehow, yet the progression of the notes took him by surprise and sent shocks down his spine.

Clinging to the melody, Mathias traipsed through shrubbery, over logs and between trees, until the forest opened up into some kind of clearing. There, nestled in the heart of the woods was a small lake, glimmering faintly in the moonlight. It was surrounded on all sides by pine trees, and a thin mist clung to the water's surface. Even through the darkness, the air was lit with a sense of nervous excitement, and small fireflies flitted about with animation.

Mathias, however, was oblivious to the stunning scenery, his gaze trained on the source of the music. In the centre of the lake stood the most beautiful creature he had ever dreamed.

A man, boy perhaps, was standing waist-deep in the water, playing some kind of violin. He wore no shirt, and his pale torso shone in the moonlight. His skin was shockingly white, almost milky, like the petal of a lily. He was slender, and looked as if any more than the gentlest of brushes would blow him away with the wind, silver stardust.

His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed, soft lashes fanning his cheeks and dark lips parted delicately. His hair was so blond it was almost white, soft as the first snow of winter. It fell deftly over his forehead and brows, curling lightly at the nape of his neck.

The whole picture was… ethereal. His slim fingers danced over the neck of his lyre, playing a tune so beautifully nostalgic that Mathias could not bear peel his eyes away. Unaware of his own movements, Mathias waded into the lake, still fully clothed and oblivious to the water's sharp chill. His steps were numb, the music trickling through his veins like wine. With each stride, the inky water crawled higher, and before long it licked at his chin and his legs kicked for support.

Fortunately, his feet located some sort of rock, allowing him to stand and continue to labour towards the beautiful boy. As Mathias drew closer, the boy made no outward acknowledgment of his presence, but the song began to slow, notes winding down with sweet lethargy. Entranced, Mathias lifted his arm, reaching towards the boy. His own hands looked so big, so _blotchy_ and _calloused_ in comparison to the other's silky white.

With a final, haunting thread, the song drew to an end, leaving wistful silence in its wake. The boy was frozen, lyre still tucked to his shoulder. With shaking hands, Mathias closed the final few inches between them, brushing his fingers against the other's cheek.

It was ice cold.

And just like that, the spell was broken. The boy whipped his head around, revealing eyes so cold it felt as if his spine was pierced by needles of ice. They were hollow, the colour of water that had coughed and sputtered to death in the loneliest part of the ocean.

His hands shot out, dropping the lyre, and wrapped themselves around Mathias's neck. Terrified, Mathias floundered, feet lifting off the rock and fingers clawing at his throat. The boy, the _creature_ was inhumanly strong, his grip steely despite his delicate appearance.

His expression remained blank as he opened his mouth to speak. "Where is my brother?"

If Mathias's airways weren't being constricted, he would have inhaled, sharply. The boy's voice reminded him of the mist that whispered at the moon, thin and soft, but still carrying an undertone of danger. His words were hissed without inflection, but were somehow melodic, making his hairs stand on end.

"Brother?" Mathias rasped, "I don't – what are you talking about?"

"Your people. _Humans._ You took him."

Mathias squirmed in an effort to relieve the pressure on his neck, but the grip only tightened. "It wasn't me! I had nothing to do with it, I swear!"

" _Lies_!" the boy growled, fingers squeezing Mathias's throat with renewed vigour. "You're all the same, greedy, mindless fools. You took my brother and if you don't return him, I will make you pay."

"Please! Please, don't kill me! I have no idea who took your brother, I promise!" Mathias's eyes filled with tears from fear and lack of oxygen, threatening to spill over his cheeks. He didn't want to die, not like this. He hadn't even said goodbye to his brother. The whole dispute seemed so trivial now, and he longed for nothing more than to run home and hug Berwald like there was no tomorrow. Well, the way things were looking, there may not have _been_ another tomorrow for Mathias. "Who were they, the people who took your brother? If you can describe them, I'll tell you if I've seen them before!"

The boy paused, considering. "They came with the night, in robes of black and gold. They detained me and seized my brother, placing him in some kind of wheeled contraption. Their cheeks held markings in the shape of broadswords – but, they weren't just markings. They were scars, carved in their own flesh."

Mathias's eyes flashed with recognition. "Kingsmen! They were kingsmen!"

The boy narrowed his eyes. "Do not speak to me in riddles, _human_. What are these 'kingsmen' you reference?"

"They're knights, servants of the crown. They usually stay pretty close to the city, though, so it's weird you met them out here."

The boy, relieved that he was making some kind of leeway, relaxed his grip on the other's neck slightly. Mathias drew in a shaky breath, restoring some of the oxygen to his lungs.

Despite calming marginally, the boy's expression remained severe. "And where can I find these… kingsmen?"

"They're stationed at the palace, that's where they came from. But, I mean, that's like a bajillion miles away, there's no way you'll make it if you don't know where you're going-"

Mathias was cut off as the boy's grip tightened again, the acrimony returned to his eyes. "Are you telling me I can't find them?"

"N-no!" Mathias wheezed. "It's just - it's just far away, is all." His eyes lit with realization. "I can take you there! If you let me go, I'll take you there!"

The boy froze, suspicious. "How do I know your words are truth?" He locked eyes with Mathias, who suppressed a shiver. "In the immediate face of death, any fool would pledge his soul to hell for five more minutes on earth. How do I know that you won't just discard me the second I take my hands off you?"

"I… We can do a blood oath. That way it's _impossible_ for me to lie."

The boy drew back, surprised. He knew as well as Mathias that blood oaths were more than just words - they were promises tied in magic. One who made a blood oath was spiritually bound to the other, obligated to pursue the contract until completion or death. Most were hesitant to make such pledges, even when they spoke the truth.

"Then it is agreed." Recomposing himself, the lake creature removed his hands from Mathias's neck, and lifted a pale arm to the moonlight. With a swipe of an unnaturally sharp fingernail, he cut a thin line across the palm of his hand. Mathias looked on in silence, mildly taken aback. With his inhuman features and ethereal presence, Mathias was almost expecting his blood to be blue, or silver, or something else transcendental. Instead, it was scarlet, appearing almost black in the darkness. The colour was so very _human_.

"Well?" The creature spat, inpatient.

Mathias snapped back to reality, noticing belatedly that he'd lapsed into silence. He looked warily at the creature's bleeding appendage before glancing down at his own. "Do I have to do it on my hand? You know, there's a myriad of nerve endings there, it would be far less painful if I cut somewhere else. Like my buttox!" Mathias chuckled, nervously, "That's just floppy fat, I doubt it would hurt much - actually, now that I think about, It's gotta make sitting down pretty unpleasant. Maybe I could get Berwald to carry me - "

Mathias cut off with a yelp as the boy snatched his wrist, lifting it up and slicing across his palm. Mathias could have sworn the creature muttered something like: " _what kind of idiot_ …", but attributed it to his imagination.

"Hey!" he cried, startled by the unexpected assault. "That wasn't very nice."

"Either you commence the blood oath this moment, or I shall drown you where you stand."

Mathias gulped, cowed. "Okay, okay, yeah, I'll do it." He paused. "But, um, I'm going to need your name for the ritual. Assuming you have one, that is. Do pretty lake faeries usually have names?"

The other's expression turned dangerous, and he narrowed his eyes to slits. "You are _not_ getting my real name, mortal. Do you take me for a fool?"

"Woah, hey, calm down, it's not a big deal!" Mathias lifted his arms, defensively. "I just need something to identify you with or the oath won't bind."

The creature deflated slightly, but his gaze remained skeptical. "Then you may refer to me as… Lukas." A beat later, he added, offended, "And I am not a lake faerie. I am Nøkken."

"I have no idea what that means, but okay. Lukas the Nøkken it is."

Mathias paused for a moment before holding out his palm. Lukas met him halfway, entwining their fingers and pressing their wounds together. His hand felt soft and cold inside Mathias's own.

Mathias inhaled deeply. "Under the shadow of this good moon, I, Mathias Køhler, solemnly pledge to aid Lukas in the search for his brother, denying rest until he is found. Lukas, do you recognize this oath?"

Lukas nodded, formally. "Aye."

"Then, by the skin of angels and the blood of the damned, I declare us _bound!_ "

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mathias was doubled over by a hot flash of pain, lancing up from the wound on his hand. Even the typically expressionless Lukas winced, slightly.

It was only now, in the wake of the oath, that Mathias felt the regret begin to nag at the back of his mind. He had just pledged himself to a long and dangerous journey with a creature that had tried to kill him. Of all the reckless decisions he'd made in his 19 years of life, this, by far, took the cake.

Ah well.

At least that horse'd come in handy for something.

* * *

Comments/reviews are appreciated!


	2. Chapter Two: Oath

Look who's posted the chapter two days early!

A couple notes before we get into things:

In my research of Nøkken, I've found that there's a myriad of different ways to refer to them, some being "Neck, Nyck, Neckar, Stromkarl, Fossegrim etc." Some use 'Nøkk' as the singular and 'Nøkken' as the plural. But, since I'm lazy and the semantics are confusing, I've decided to refer to them as 'Nøkken' for both singular and plural for the entirety of the story.

Also, this story is historical, but to a certain extent. The lovely Steadfast-Bright-Star pointed out that, if I _am_ going for historical, I'd need to make the characters' speech patterns more traditional. But, for ease of writing, I think I'm going to shake the idea that this world is historically realistic. Of course, there are definite historical elements, and it's based around Old Norse Scandinavia, but it is a separate, _fantasy_ world, so Mathias and Berwald speak relatively similar to how we do in this day and age. Lukas, however, is a freaky lake creature, so he _does_ speak in that traditional historical manner.

Anywho, back to the story. Many thanks to my beta, Vermillion Jay!

* * *

"Did I not watch from them the light

Of sunset on my towers in Spain

And see, far off, uploom in sight

The Fortunate Isles I might not gain?"

John Greenleaf Whittier

* * *

As they traipsed back to the village, Mathias was oblivious to Lukas's simmering irritation. The Nøkken was wearing Mathias's cloak, but, being a lake creature, he did not understand the concept of clothing. Nevertheless, he agreed to wear it for fear of drawing unwanted attention. Lukas had barely spoken a handful of words since they left, and Mathias took his silence as opportunity to ramble his thoughts.

"Let me get this straight. Nøkken are like sirens, but they put their victims in a trance with violins instead of by singing. And they have legs, like humans, instead of fish tails?"

Lukas hummed noncommittally.

"How does that even work? If a human guy wants… ya know… _get freaky_ with a Siren, where would he even stick his lil' buddy? I mean, the girl just has a _tail_ … wait, where does the baby come out?"

Mathias was silenced by Lukas's glare. He decided to pursue a different train of thought.

"Okay, so you lure people over with your lyre, and then they come in the lake, and then what? You drown them?" Mathias paused, eyes widening. "Do you _eat babies_?"

Lukas whipped his head around, offended. " _I do not eat babies._ "

"But you _do_ drown people," Mathias tested.

Lukas didn't respond, his gaze averting to the ground. If Mathias was perturbed by Lukas's unspoken admission, it didn't show on his face. He should have been more afraid, he supposed, but he had always been something of a "reckless idiot", in the words of Berwald. Anyhow, Lukas needed Mathias's help finding his brother, so he could relax in the knowledge that Lukas wouldn't try to kill him again any time soon.

He ran a hand through his hair and kept walking, his tone slightly subdued. "So what's your brother's name?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Well, if I'm gonna be spending the next few weeks looking for him, I figure that you owe me at least _some_ basic information. Plus," Mathias added, "It'll get real tiring to have to call him 'the brother' all the time."

He was met with silence, and for a moment Mathias thought he was going be ignored. Then, "Emil."

Mathias grinned, triumphant. "Emil? That's your brother's name?" Lukas didn't respond, so Mathias took it as an affirmative. "I like that; it's sweet. Is he a Nøkken too?"

Lukas shook his head. "Siren."

"Siren?" Mathias raised his eyebrows, surprised. "How did that happen?"

"Different fathers." Lukas's tone was taking on a sharp edge, irritated at his intrusiveness. Mathias, of course, was oblivious.

"So your father was human, then? And his was a Siren?"

"Enough with your questions," Lukas spat. "Where are you leading me? Are we on the way to the city?"

Mathias scoffed, shooting Lukas an incredulous look. "We can't just go straight there! First, we're gonna need supplies, and a horse, and probably a weapon. And anyway, I need to tell my brother where I'm going, or else he's gonna worry…"

All of a sudden, Lukas whipped around and pinned Mathias against a tree, elbow at his throat. "You mean to tell me you're taking me to a human civilization? _"_ he hissed.

Mathias shook his head, eyes wide. "Our house is pretty secluded. The only people you'll see are me and my brother."

"And how do I know your brother can be trusted?"

"Berwald is the best man I know. If there's anyone you can trust, it's him." Mathias paused, considering. "But I'll have to warn ya, he can be a bit intimidating at first **–** his face is sorta scary and he doesn't talk much. Actually, come to think of it, you guys would get along great."

Lukas scowled, but released the pressure on his throat.

Both boys were cast in a dull light from the rising sun. They'd been walking for several hours already, and were only now reaching the end of their commute. This, of course, could mainly be attributed to Mathias having no sense of direction, forcing them to retrace their steps and start the journey over, repeatedly.

Suddenly, Mathias perked up, triumphant. "Aha! I know where we are!"

" _Finally,"_ muttered Lukas.

"It's just through these trees," Mathias gestured towards the area in front of them, "You'll see it in a sec."

They continued forwards and, as Mathias had promised, the forest opened up to reveal a small dwelling in the middle of a field. A brown and white horse mewled outside, nosing the yellow grass. As they drew closer to the house, Mathias noticed Lukas visibly tensing. His visage remained blank, but there was a slight crease in his forehead and a hunch in his shoulders, as if bracing himself for attack.

"You don't need to worry, ya know," Mathias offered him a placating smile. "I wasn't lying when I said you can trust my brother."

"Hm."

"Well you have to anyway, we're here now!" Mathias sped up his pace, a slight skip in his step, as he approached his home.

He never got a chance to arrive, however, as the door swung open from the inside.

Mathias yelped as Berwald darted outside, enveloping him in a hug. His brother was built like a wall, and Mathias found himself suffocating in the tight grip.

"Thought you'd left." Berwald murmured into his shoulder.

Mathias smiled faintly, relieved his brother wasn't still angry. "You know I'd never really leave ya, Ber." He struggled to get out of the hug, but Berwald's grip remained steely. "Um, as happy as I am to see ya, I can't really breathe."

"Sorry." With one final squeeze, he was released, and Berwald stepped back to appraise him. All of a sudden, his expression clouded over, eyes turning dangerous. "What happened t'your neck?"

"Huh?" Mathias brought a hand to his throat, numbly massaging the skin. He suppressed a wince as it throbbed in pain. Even from his own difficult angle, he could see it was beginning to swell in reddish bruising. "Oh, that. It's kind of a funny story, actually. There's someone you need to meet."

Mathias stepped aside, placing the Nøkken in full view. Berwald startled, noticing him for the first time.

"Did he do this?" Berwald growled, glaring at Lukas.

The Nøkken didn't cower, instead meeting Berwald's gaze in challenge.

"Hey, now," Mathias started, nervously, "It's all okay. We worked it out. He hasn't tried to kill me for almost four hours now."

"He tried to kill you?" Berwald's anger grew tenfold.

Mathias placed a hand on his brother's chest, holding him back. "Well, I may have walked into his lake and then tried to touch his face. I'd probably strangle me too."

Berwald glanced over at Lukas, taking in his pearly skin and blue lips. The boy looked _dead_ , decidedly not human.

Keeping his eyes on the Nøkken, as if to makes sure he didn't move, Berwald ground out "What _is_ he?" Though his voice was impassive, Berwald's eyes betrayed his unease.

"A Nøkken, apparently."

Berwald started, horrified. "You brought a Nøkken to our house? Mathias, how're you _alive_?"

Mathias looked up at his brother in curiosity. "You know what Nøkken are?"

"Of course I know what Nøkken are! They're all soulless monsters that live in lakes and lure innocents to the water to _drown them!_ "

At the accusation, Lukas stepped forwards, face deadly. "I am not a _soulless monster_ you mundane fool-"

Mathias, sensing the rising tensions, jumped between the two boys and smiled anxiously. "Whoa there, it's okay guys, we all have souls and we don't want to kill each other, do we?"

Lukas muttered something that sounded like "Speak for yourself."

Berwald, still simmering with quiet anger, turned to Mathias. "I don't know what happened out there, for you to bring home a _Nøkken_ , but you have some explaining to do."

* * *

After Mathias assured him that Lukas would not try and kill them, Berwald reluctantly let the two inside, and they sat around a small table.

As Mathias explained the events of the night prior, the crease between Berwald's eyebrows deepened. When he told him about the blood oath, his brother's thin reserve snapped, and he shot to his feet.

"You made a blood oath?" Berwald's voice quivered with a thread of panic.

Despite being fully aware of the idiocy of his actions, Mathias still made an indignant attempt to defend himself. "He was going to kill me! I had no choice!" Mathias paused, averting his gaze. When he spoke again, his voice was mellow. "Look, everything'll be alright, Ber. I'll go off with Lukas for a few weeks, we'll find his brother, and then I'll come home. It'll be like I never left."

Berwald drew back, surprised. "Mathias **–** if you think I'm just going to let you go off with the beast, yer more of an idiot than I thought."

Lukas, who had been silent during this exchange, shot a glare at Berwald.

Mathias, on the other hand, looked up at his brother, frustrated. "Then what are you proposing I do? Blood oaths aren't exactly easy get rid of. So, unless you want to duel him to the death **–** and, trust me, it's not a good idea **–** I have to take him to the city."

"Then I'll come with you."

This time, it was Mathias's turn to reel back in shock. "You'll what?"

"I don't trust that the Nøkken won't kill you **–** and I don't trust you to have enough sense to stay alive. If his brother really has been taken by Kingsmen, your efforts will be met with steel and the opposition of the crown. You may be an idiot, but I'm not just letting you walk in there and get yourself killed."

Mathias stared at Berwald, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Brother…"

"Enough." Lukas snapped, icy words breaking the atmosphere. "No more loitering. We have to leave before nightfall."

Finally looking away from his brother, Berwald appraised Lukas with a frown.

"We have to do something 'bout your appearance. Anyone could tell you're not human."

Mathias followed his gaze, considering. He hadn't thought of that. "Maybe we could spread some brown dough on him t'make him less pale?"

Berwald answered with a glare.

"Okay, okay, that won't work. Any better ideas?"

Berwald remained silent.

Suddenly, Mathias struck inspiration. "What about the mage?"

"The mage?"

"Ya know," Mathias tested, "the witchy boy who lives in that little mill by the forest. He might be able to do something about Lukas."

At the suggestion, Lukas stepped forwards with renewed malice. "We are _not_ bringing anyone else into this." He went to grip Mathias's collar, but drew back when he saw Berwald stiffen. "I have already revealed myself to two humans. You are extremely fortunate that I have not killed you yet **–** but my temper is thin, and it will not hold if you continue to soil our agreement."

"That was never our agreement!" Mathias exclaimed. "I said I'd help you find your brother, not that we'd up and disappear overnight without even telling my family. If you really want to find Emil, you're going to have to listen to us. Going out like this, you'd get hunted down by any number of people who want creatures like you _dead_. So get over it, we're trying to help."

Lukas blinked. Mathias's behaviour was shockingly uncharacteristic of his typically foolish demeanour. Cowed, Lukas withdrew, but left the scowl on his face. "… After this mage, no more people."

Mathias released his breath, relieved he'd avoided the Nøkken's wrath again **–** albeit narrowly. "Okay. Okay, yeah, no more people."

Lukas, though still suspicious, relaxed slightly. Perhaps he was beginning to trust him, just a touch.

After a beat, Mathias turned to his brother. "So, Ber-ber, ya still remember how to get to the mage's house?"

* * *

Instead of taking the shorter route through the village, the trio was forced to trudge around the outskirts of the woods, taking almost an hour. They couldn't risk being seen; they had no idea how the villagers would react if they knew the brothers were harbouring a monster. Mathias and Berwald weren't particularly popular to begin with, and that would be the nail in _that_ coffin. Lukas would probably be assaulted with pitchforks **–** which wouldn't be so bad, Mathias thought, if it weren't for the blood oath forcing him to aid Lukas on his quest.

The Nøkken in question was glaring a hole into the air in front of him. A few hours ago, a glower of that magnitude would have brought Mathias to his knees. At this point, though, Mathias supposed he was getting used to them.

Through all of his deadly acrimony, Lukas still looked stunningly beautiful. Before they left, Berwald had the sense to fetch him some clothes, lest he trek to the mage's house in naught but Mathias's cloak. Unfortunately, being significantly smaller than the brothers, Lukas was forced to wear their old, discarded clothes from years ago. Despite this, the rags looked like regalia on Lukas's fair form.

He wore a petite beige tunic, held in place by a rope belt and crisscrossing black lace at the collar. Under his tunic he wore dark breeches, walking in boots that reached the top of his calves. The clothes were relatively plain, but on Lukas they seemed almost courtly.

Mathias himself was wearing a long brown tunic, complimented by a thick belt, fabric breeches, and fur-lined boots. Berwald's apparel was essentially the same, but his tunic was dark blue and had decorative golden runes woven into the collar.

All together, the trio weren't dressed particularly gracefully, but the brothers were short on money and these clothes were practical. After all, there were few to show off to; most of the village could sympathize financially, and the small community was scarcely visited by any stretch of nobility.

As they continued forwards, a small windmill revealed itself in front of the trees. It was almost completely swallowed by ivy, tiny flowers growing up the walls and looking like it was a part of the forest. At one point, the contraption was probably used to grind corn into flour, but it clearly had not been employed for that purpose for several years now.

Mathias grinned at his brother. "Aha! We're here!"

Berwald grunted.

"D'ya think he'll be willing to help us? We've never actually talked, but I see him at the tavern every now and then." Mathias wrinkled his nose. "For such a small guy, he can sure hold his alcohol!"

All of a sudden, Lukas froze, halting mid-step.

Mathias almost stumbled into him. "Hey, why'd you stop?"

"There's something very wrong here."

Mathias snorted. "Wrong? That's a bit harsh, don't ya think? I mean, Berwald's face isn't exactly dainty, but I wouldn't go so far as to call it _wrong_."

Berwald glared.

"I'm serious, you dunce." Lukas raised his head and sniffed the air. "There's hostile magic here, I can sense it."

Mathias cocked an eyebrow, dismissive of his concerns. "Well a'course there is! This is the _mage's_ house, it's probably crawling with all kinds of magic!" A hop in his step, Mathias continued towards the house. "You need to stop being so paranoid, Lukas. Not everyone's out to get ya."

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Mathias was struck sharply at the knees, as if he had walked into a tripwire. When he looked down, however, he saw nothing but air. Sharp zings of heat pulsated from where he had tripped the invisible cable, and he immediately knew it was some form of magic.

"Mathias?" Berwald asked, concerned.

Mathias turned to his brother, preparing to brush off his worries, but was distracted by a glint from the top of one of the trees. With a dawning sense of horror, Mathias realized what he was looking at.

It was an arrow,

and it was heading straight at him.

* * *

I'll get to the next chapter as soon as I can! I'm dorkdenmark on tumblr, if you wanna come say hi.

Comments and reviews are much appreciated!


	3. Chapter Three: Mage

MANY, MANY APOLOGIES FOR BEING A WEEK LATE! ALL I CAN SAY IN MY DEFENSE IS: EXAMS, MAN, EXAMS.

* * *

Did sudden lift of fog reveal

Arcadia's vales of song and spring,

And did I pass, with grazing keel,

The rocks whereon the sirens sing?

\- John Greenleaf Whittier

* * *

As the silver arrow zipped towards his neck, Mathias stood frozen. It was as if his mind and body were numb — like he was watching the events unfold from afar, helpless to his inevitable and immediate death. The situation was ironic, he thought. He'd survived the wrath of a fabled lake monster, only to be killed the following morning by a stray arrow.

He was ripped from his state of paralysis as a force hit his side, sending him sprawling onto the ground. As his mind cleared, Mathias identified the weight on top of him as Lukas. The boy had pushed him out of the path of the arrow, knocking him onto his back and saving his life.

"Luh-" Mathias cleared his throat; the shock of his near death experience had rendered his voice to a wheeze. "Lukas?"

Lukas was sitting on his stomach, knees straddling Mathias' torso. His eyes were narrowed, but the slight pant of his breath betrayed his disarray. "Why didn't you move." It was less of a question, more of a demand.

"I don't know." Mathias replied, voice trembling slightly with adrenaline. "I wanted to, but my body wouldn't budge." Mathias looked up, locking eyes with Lukas. "Thank you — for saving me, I mean."

Perhaps Lukas wasn't as barbaric as Berwald had made him out to be, Mathias thought. Maybe there was a shred of decency in there, a part of him that saved Mathias for more reason that just the fact that he needed his guidance to find his brother.

Lukas just glared, climbing back to his feet. Mathias sat up, and Berwald walked over to his brother, offering him a hand.

Mathias took it, smiling. "Thanks." Upon further inspection, Mathias noticed a thin line of blood marring Berwald's cheek. "Hey, what happened to your face?"

"Hm?" Berwald lifted a hand to his cheekbone, withdrawing it to see the red on his fingertips. "Oh. I think the arrow nicked me on its way out."

Frowning, Mathias opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the door of the mill house swinging open.

"Oh! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I'm so so sorry!" A boy around their age stood at the doorway, clutching his hands together and rambling, his voice high-pitched. A soft mop of blond hair framed his head, and a blue chemise fitted over his slightly chubby torso.

Lukas and Berwald tensed, surprised by his unexpected appearance.

"I forgot to disarm the trip wire! It's not for you, I didn't want to actually hurt anyone, there's just this miscreant little warlock boy who keeps breaking into my house and rigging my potions, and no-one else really comes round here and - Oh! You're bleeding!"

The boy flounced over to Berwald, leaning up on his tiptoes to stroke a thumb over his injured cheek. His eyes were filled with tears, panicked and apologetic. "I'm so sorry, oh goodness, I could have really hurt you! I don't know what I would have done with myself if any of you were seriously injured, oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh-"

"Hey," Mathias cut in, smiling disarmingly. "It's alright, we're all fine, no-one got hurt." He spared a glance at Berwald. "Well, not badly, anyway."

The boy rocked back on his heels, calming slightly. "Okay, that's good then." He turned to appraise the trio, smiling welcomingly. "I'm Tino, by the way, the local mage! And you're Mathias, right? I've seen you at the tavern."

"Yep! That's me." Mathias gestured to the other two. "This is my brother, Berwald, and that's… that's Lukas."

Tino glanced over at the Nokken, taking in his white skin and otherworldly countenance. "Well, I can tell there's a story here. Would you like to come inside?"

* * *

"You're a Nokken? Wow." Tino didn't seem particularly shaken by the prospect of having such a dangerous creature in his living room, appearing more intrigued than anything else.

The small interior of the mill was cluttered with curious items; shelves stacked with decaying leather-bound books, little pots and jars filled with peculiar smelling herbs, and a large black cauldron boiling a colourful sludge that Mathias would rather not think about. He's quite certain he saw something in it move.

A rickety bed was pressed to the corner of the room, almost completely swallowed by Tino's copious clutter. Despite the disorder, the small space had a homely sense about it; every item had the distinct and quirky mark of _Tino._

Almost as soon as they had walked through the door, Tino had forced Berwald into a fraying armchair, apologizing again and subjecting him to his incessant fussing. The smaller boy darted around the room, rifling through medical supplies and listening to Mathias's story, occasionally chiming in with a question or comment.

He leaned down to Berwald, cupping his face to apply a thick salve to the wound. Tino's movements were careful, bending in close, so that their noses were almost touching. From his position, Mathias could see Berwald's cheeks flushing red. He chuckled, internally.

Well _this_ would be interesting.

Lukas was silent throughout the exchange, holding himself stiff and seemingly made uncomfortable by Tino's warm enthusiasm. He looked dreadfully out of place; his pale marble figure a shocking contrast to the chaotic mess of Tino's home.

Lukas looked like something conjured by a sleep kissed mind in the space between slumber and wakefulness. An image so beautiful it was more a _feeling_ than a picture, the hazy form sucking the air from one's lungs and taking flight in their stomach. The taunting haze of sleep prevented one from being able to truly focus on the image, slipping between their fingers before they can ever get proper look at it.

That's how Mathias perceived Lukas; a creature walking between the planes of reality, a whisper at the corner of his mind, a beautiful enigma.

With a jolt, Mathias caught Lukas' glare, realizing belatedly that he'd been staring at him. Again.

Before Mathias could brush it off with a trademark asinine comment, Tino chirped in.

"So, a blood oath, huh? Tricky things, those, almost impossible to remove." He turned away from Berwald to face Mathias, a finger still lingering on Berwald's injured cheek. "So what brought you here? If there's anything you need, I'd be more than willing to help you out! I owe it to you anyway, after everything that happened." He shot another apologetic look at Berwald.

Berwald grunted something like "Not yer fault.", despite it being plainly obvious to everyone in the room that the whole 'arrow' situation was _entirely_ his fault. Man, thought Mathias, it's only been 20 minutes and Berwald is already _whipped._

"Well," replied Mathias, "we kinda figured that if we try and go on this journey with Lukas looking all glowy and dead-ish, it's gonna attract some unwanted attention." Ignoring Lukas' bristles, Mathias continued,"We came to see if you had some sorta witchy-spell that can make him look more human."

"Hmmm." Tino squinted, looking into the distance as he considered the request. He tapped on his chin with a finger for a short while, deep in thought, before jerking upwards in epiphany. "Aha! I know just the thing!"

The mage darted to the bookshelf, bouncing on his toes with each step. After a few moments of scanning the collection, he reached to the top shelf and lifted out an enormous brown book, bound with thick cloth. It was probably about half Tino's weight, and the boy tottered over to the table with it, stumbling slightly. He dropped it onto the surface with a resounding thump, sending a plume of dust into the air and making Mathias cough.

Poking his tongue out in concentration, Tino opened the cover and began flipping through the book. The pages were faded and yellowed, crinkling at the corners and holding the distinct smell of age. Each one was filled with lines and lines of runes, symbols that Mathias had never seen before. The ink was brown and musty, and Mathias couldn't help but wonder if it was written in blood.

"Found it!"

Tino stopped on a page about three quarters through the book, resting his hand on the margin and leaning in close to absorb the words. He murmured under his breath as he read, tracing the runes with a finger.

The others watched in silence as Tino pored over the words, occasionally flipping the page and then going back. This continued for several more minutes, before he finally stopped, leaning away and smiling up at them.

"I think I have what you're looking for."

Mathias exhaled, relief coursing through his veins. It was bad enough that he'd sworn himself to a long journey with a dangerous monster - he didn't want to have to deal with prying onlookers too. Anyway, if Lukas spoke the truth, then it seemed the King had issued some sort of order on the capture of superhuman creatures. Walking around with Lukas looking the way he did, he was just about asking for trouble.

"So you'll do the spell then? Free of cost?"

"Of course I'd do it for free! It's the least I can do." Tino paused, looking back at the book. "And it's not a spell, actually, it's a potion. Luckily, I have all the ingredients."

Mathias turned to Lukas, flashing him a grin of triumph. Though Lukas's returning glare was impassive as ever, Mathias could tell from the slight relaxing of his shoulders than he was just as relieved.

"But, we have a small problem."

At Tino's words, Mathias swung back around, perplexed. "Aw jeez, please don't tell me this is gonna take more blood sacrifices. My hand's stingin' enough as it is, I don't wanna add the other one to the pain party."

Lukas fixed Mathias with a glare as Tino chuckled. "No, no, nothing like that, it's all herbs and other plant stuff…" He trailed off, face sobering. "The issue, is that the potion only lasts for a few days, before it wears off."

"Then can't you just give us a bunch, then, so he can take another dose whenever he needs?"

"It's more complicated than that." Tino wrung his hands, solemnly. "The potion will only work while the magic is fresh, so unless I come with you and remake it every few days, it's not gonna last."

Berwald frowned, speaking up for the first time in the conversation. "Can't ya just teach us how'ta make it?"

Tino shook his head. "The potion is more than just about assembling it correctly. You need the touch of a mage, or all you'll end up with is a pile of sludge with absolutely no magical properties whatsoever."

Mathias chewed on his lip, defeated. "Oh… I guess we're kinda stuck, then."

"Not necessarily."

Mathias turned to Tino, puzzled. "I thought you said we can't make it?"

"Yeah, but I can!" Tino chirped, a flash of excitement brightening his eyes, illuminating them in a sparkling shade of violet.

Berwald's back straightened, and he stared at Tino, incredulous. "You aren't suggesting…"

"Yep!" Tino grinned, clasping his hands in front of him. "I was planning to visit the city soon anyway, there are some ingredients you just can't get all the way out here. Plus, I still feel bad about the arrow."

"Y'didn't mean for it t'happen." Berwald insisted, placing a broad hand on Tino's shoulder. Tino sagged under his comfort.

"I know, I know, but it'll put my mind at ease, you know? Trust me, I want to help."

Berwald regarded him for several more seconds, before nodding tersely.

Mathias, satisfied that they'd figured it out, clapped his hands together. "Awesome! So how long is it gonna take to get the potion ready? We want to leave as soon as possible, so it might be quickest if we go assemble our belongings while you sort out the potion."

Tino frowned. "I don't know, it could take a while. I don't suppose one of you would be willing to stay behind with me? It'll go a lot faster with another pair of hands."

Mathias paused, before striking cruel inspiration. "Berwald would love to stay and help! Wouldn't you, Ber-Ber?"

Berwald stammered, cheeks heating up at the prospect of spending time alone with the bubbly mage.

Pleased, Tino turned to Berwald, gratefulness painted over his features. "Are you sure it's okay? I don't want to be any trouble!"

Berwald, still flushing red, nodded awkwardly. "Mm. No problem."

"Great! We'll meet at sunset, at the house." Mathias piped in, face split in a broad — if not a touch sadistic — grin. Still smiling, he turned to Lukas. "I guess it's just me and you now! Time ta go get ready for an adventure! Whaddya say, Luke?"

Lukas scowled, irritated. "Don't call me that."

"But it's cute!" At Lukas's glare, Mathias relented. "Alright, alright, I'll stop with the nicknames. But you'll come around to it later, I promise!"

"Don't bet on it."

With that, the two boys departed from the mill, bickering casually. Despite his unpleasant predicament, Mathias wasn't solely anticipating his upcoming journey with dread. Inexplicably, a coil of excitement was twisting deep within his bones.

Perhaps this was the beginning of the adventure he'd always longed for.

* * *

That's it for this week! Come find me on tumblr, I'm dorkdenmark!

Please review! They make my day :)


	4. Chapter Four: Stories

I AM VERY SORY FOR COMING IN SO LATE WITH THIS CHAPTER! I've been travelling Iceland and Germany with a friend these past few weeks, and I didn't have a laptop. Anyhow, I was able to get this written, and I've made it a bit longer than usual as an apology for the wait and for the general crappiness of my last chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Dear souls who left us lonely here,

Bound on their last, long voyage, to whom

We, day by day, are drawing near,

Where every bark has sailing room.

\- John Greenleaf Whittier

* * *

Mathias swore colourfully as he was knocked back into the mud for the fifth time. His shirt was stained brown, and his typically cheerful face was twisted in angry determination.

Pushing himself back onto his feet, he advanced towards the horse, holding up his hands placatingly. "Heeeere, Princess. It's just a saddle, it's not gonna hurt you."

The horse neighed indignantly.

Mathias and Lukas had successfully gathered the supplies, but were now facing a new challenge: the horse. Despite many attempts to saddle the creature, it was intent on kicking Mathias to the ground when he advanced anywhere within three feet of him. Lukas looked on coolly as Mathias scrambled through the mud, cursing and making a fool of himself.

"We have to leave soon, idiot. Hurry up."

Mathias looked up at Lukas, exasperated. "I'm _trying._ Here, can't you do something to get her to cooperate? With your Nokkeness?"

Lukas raised an eyebrow. "I have no intention of dirtying myself."

"Aw, come on." Mathias pouted. "Just a little help? Please?"

At Lukas' ensuing silence, Mathias mustered the most pitiful puppy-dog face in his capability. He forced his bottom lip to wobble, slightly, fixing the Nokken with round, watery eyes.

For a few moments, Lukas was unresponsive, before breaking the quiet with a loud sigh. Wordlessly rolling his eyes, Lukas walked up to the horse, staring it square in the face.

The horse snorted, preparing to strike him as he did Mathias, but froze when Lukas emitted a thin hiss. At the threateningly inhuman sound, the horse raised it shackles, hair standing on end. It stayed frozen, tense, as Lukas calmly walked up to its side and fastened the saddle onto its back.

Mathias watched Lukas, simultaneously impressed and satisfied. He wasn't certain if Lukas' cooperation could be attributed to his puppy eyes, but either way, he was happy with the results.

Just then, Mathias caught sight of two forms, approaching from the edge of the trees. He was able to identify them as Tino and Berwald. They were carrying satchels, probably filled with the mysterious potion they'd made for Lukas and the relevant ingredients. Tino was hopping along at Berwald's side, smiling broadly and chattering animatedly. Berwald was stoic, as usual, but his cheeks were still dusted in a light blush, and he watched Tino with a glow of affection in his eyes.

Bouncing to his feet, Mathias waved at the pair. "What took ya so long? We've been all finished for ages!"

Lukas sent him a questioning look, eyebrow raised. Mathias certainly hadn't been ready two minutes ago.

Mathias ignored it, instead bounding over to his brother. He slung an arm over the taller's shoulder, grinning devilishly. "So what did you guys get up to while I was gone?"

Berwald shot Mathias a warning glare, but Tino continued, oblivious.

"Oh, Berwald was a wonderful help! I must admit, I was a bit frightened by him at first – he's very big – but he's actually really sweet!" Tino beamed up at Mathias, eyes bright. "And he's wonderful with his hands!"

Mathias snorted, raising his eyebrows at Berwald. Berwald blushed harder.

Incognizant to the implications of his statement, Tino continued his chatter. "He sewed up the hole in my satchel, without me even asking! I've never been any good at sewing, to be honest. It's all too small and finicky; I don't have the patience for it. But Berwald is great at it, aren't you?"

Berwald grunted in non-committal affirmation.

"Ber is great with stuff like that!" Mathis cut in. "He makes these little wooden figures, carves 'em himself with a switchblade. Here, I think I might have one with me!" Mathias reached into his satchel, digging around for a few moments before pulling out a small wooden soldier, about the size of his palm. He handed it to Tino, who cradled it between his fingers, holding it in front of his eye to get a better look.

"He made this one for me years, ago. He was about 12, I think?" Mathias smiled to himself, remembering the boy his brother had once been, face soft and frame weedy. "He was already a wizard with his hands. You were a good kid." Mathias reached out to ruffle his hair, but Berwald ducked away, embarrassed. "You still are!"

Tino handed the toy back to Mathias, and he returned it to the deep of his satchel. "This is wonderful! Berwald, you'll have to show me how you do it, when we're on the road. It must be so hard, all the details."

Berwald hummed in response, and Tino interpreted it as affirmation. He turned to Mathias. "Anyhow, are you two all set?"

Mathias glanced at Lukas, who was standing off to the side with a bored expression. "I think so. Who wants to ride Princess first?"

Tino frowned, confused. "Princess?"

"It's what I named the horse!" Mathias grinned.

Lukas snorted. "I've seen the underside of the creature, and I think it pertinent to point out that your princess is more of a prince."

Mathias walked over to the horse, who, surprisingly, refrained from attacking this time. "Do you like being called Princess?" he asked. The horse neighed happily, nuzzling into Mathias's outstretched hand. "See! If Princess wants to be a princess, then she can be a princess!"

"…Right." Tino responded after a pause. "Well, since she seems to like you, maybe you should try riding her first?"

"Aww, see Luke, she likes me now!" Mathias ran his hand over the smooth of her back, before glancing back at Tino.

With a dramatic jump, Mathias swung himself onto Princess's saddle. She was still for a moment before abruptly bending her knees, lowering herself to a sitting position.

Mathias frowned, confused. "Hey, what're ya doing? Giddy up!"

He patted her on the neck, but the horse refused to budge. With a disappointed sigh, he brought his leg back over and stepped off. Almost as soon as stood back up, Princess returned to her feet.

"Well, let's try this again, I guess." Mathias stepped up to Princess, and mounted her for the second time. The results were the same. Multiple tries later, Mathias still had no luck, returned to cursing on the ground every time.

Off to the side, Tino was muffling snickers into his palm. Even Lukas seemed entertained.

"Laugh at me all you want, but she'll warm up, you'll see!" Mathias exclaimed, rubbing Princess behind the ears.

Tino laughed. "For all of our sakes, I hope you're right!" He glanced down at the horse, who was mewling at the grass. "It looks like we'll all just have to walk, for now."

"Maybe we can tie some've our bags onto her back?" piped Berwald.

Tino hummed, considering. "I think that'd work! I have some rope with me, actually, I'll use that."

Mathias looked over to Tino, an incredulous smile splitting his lips. "You just _happened_ to have a length of rope on you?" He snorted. " _Why_?"

Tino, who had already begun advancing towards the horse with his bags and rope, seemed unbothered by the other's bewilderment. "You never know when it will come in handy!"

After everyone's satchels were secured to the horse, Tino stepped back, smiling. "Alright then! How about we get this show on the road?"

* * *

After five hours of walking, Princess still refused to carry any of them on her back. Mathias suspected that Lukas would be more successful, should he try, but the young Nokken seemed content to continue on foot. Not that he ever appeared particularly content. His entire aura was still frosty, but the effects of the potion appeared to be kicking in.

His previously alabaster skin was warming with colour; still shockingly pale, but not unnaturally so. His blue lips were now flushed crimson, and the tips of his ears and nose were tinged in red from the winter chill. His nails had softened, shortening to round stumps and losing their mirror-like glint.

For all intents and purposes, he looked human. Yet, his ethereal aura had not passed from Mathias's eyes, the familiar hollow tightening in his ribcage returning every time he looked the other in the face.

Lukas was far from amicable, but Mathias could not help but feel that he was warming up to him. The strain in his shoulders and the clench in his jaw had loosened some, and he had started contributing flat remarks into their conversation. In truth, Mathias's cheerful rambling could hardly be considered "conversation", but Lukas's introspective quips at least made it seem slightly less one-sided.

According to Tino, Lukas's potion would require him to eat like a normal person; human flesh would do little for him now. At this remark, Lukas started, affronted.

"I do not feed on _flesh_ ," he had protested, face twisted in disgust. "My primary source of sustenance is fish and small birds. My only interest in humans is their souls."

"You eat _souls_?" Mathias had exclaimed, incredulous. "That's even worse!"

After settling the "Lukas Eats Weird Shit/No I Most Certainly Do _Not_ You Lumbering Idiot" dispute, the four of them decided they should find a place to sleep for the night, and gather some food before sunset. Mathias and Lukas had volunteered to catch food for their dinner, having noticed a lake nearby, while Tino and Berwald opted to stay behind and set up camp.

After forty-five minutes of walking, Mathias and Lukas had successfully lost their direction. They did, however, happen across a lake – just not the one they had set out looking for.

Mathias had brought a small net with him from home, his initial plan being to hold it in the water and gather some fish. This idea had flown out the window when Lukas had walked straight up to the water's edge, darting a hand through the surface and whipping out a squirming fish.

Apparently, with Nokken powers came ridiculous fish-catching abilities.

Realizing his own uselessness by comparison, Mathis thought it best to just recline against a boulder and watch Lukas do his thing. After a short while, Lukas followed, dropping an armful of fish onto the ground beside him and sat down next to Mathias.

There was a moment of silence, before he spoke up, voice flat. "We should return soon. We have yet to re-orient our direction- and _I'll_ lead the way, this time."

"Sure, sure, but let's stay here for a little while first. I love this lake! It looks so pretty at sunset."

"Your exuberance is grating. Aren't you concerned about losing yourself in the trees?"

"That wouldn't be so bad! To lose yourself in a magical forest – I would look forward to such an experience – or look forward to remembering it, at least." Mathias said, and then noticed Lukas's look of irritated confusion.

"We humans live to tell stories," he explained. "Without them, we'd have nothing to talk about. It's why we go hunting for adventures – in the front've our heads, we think it's the _moment_ we're after, the experience. But we're wrong. It's the _memories_ we're really looking forward to. Something ta keep our tired heads spinning when we're old'n wrinkled, a story to draw some drunken laughs from friends at the local tavern. That's why I don't really care if we get lost – it's just one more story to tell, right?"

Lukas looked away, before responding, tone clipped, "Your species' frivolous need for the acceptance of your peers means little to me. If losing our direction will delay the search for my brother, then I would advise you to pay close attention to our whereabouts. You will have no stories left to tell if you die here."

"Are ya kidding?" Mathias laughed, ignoring Lukas's unspoken threat. "We tell the best stories when we're dead! Well, _we_ won't technically be the ones telling them, but our lives'll keep on goin' through the people we knew when we were alive. Ya see, Luke, after we die, we go through some kinda magical transformation. Our past adventures become so much more dangerous, our smiles get brighter, truer, and our redeeming qualities start to wipe out our fatal flaws. People don't remember mucha the bad stuff, once you're dead; ya get glorified in the heads of yer friends.

"The smelly beefcake who'd always steal your seat at the bar? He dies, and suddenly all you can remember of him is that time he bought everyone a beer, and that he's quite fond of kittens. The way I see it, dead you is the you everyone secretly wanted you to be when you were alive."

"And what if you have no one left to tell your stories?"

Mathias paused, face sobering. "That's when you're really, properly dead. When people stop tellin' your story, there's nothing left of you at all; ya might as well have never existed. I think that's everyone's biggest fear. Not to die, but to disappear. We're all just a messy scramble of souls trying to scrape our way to the top of a sea of blank faces. Each of us thinks we're special, that we could be the one who's name everyone remembers, but we're all idiots. Even the kings and the knights and the heroes in our favourite stories are gonna be forgotten someday, but we like to fool ourselves into thinkin' that fame could immortalize us."

Mathias looked into the distance, a humourless smile brushing his lips. "I talk all these big words, but in truth, I'm just as bad as the rest of 'em. Here I am, smiling my way through this clusterfuck and callin' it an adventure, just so I can talk about it back home and get drunk on the look on other people's faces. I don't even know if I want the stories for me, or if I want them so that other people'll think of me."

Mathias's voice trailed off, weak words stolen by the northern wind. After what could have been a minute but could also have been hours, Mathias jolted back to reality, eyes focusing and posture straightening. He turned to see Lukas studying him, face inscrutable.

"Well that got a little serious, didn't it? I blame the lack of beer. What's it been, almost forty-eight hours now? I think I'm going through withdrawal." Mathias's flung his arms in the air dramatically, face twisted in exaggerated sorrow. "Hey, Lukas, d'ya think you could conjure me some with your Nokken-y powers?"

Lukas's thoughtful expression was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his customary scowl. "What do you take me for, a warlock? Nokken have no such ability – and even if we did, we would not waste it conjuring such an ugly beverage. Nokken are creatures of water; we have no need to numb our senses with false security in the way that man does."

"I suppose you're right. You may be a creature of water, but men are creatures of steel – we're guided by our swords and dragged down by our metal. Sometimes we just need a good ol' drink to take a bit of the weight off, every once in a while."

Lukas raised a pale eyebrow. "From the sounds of it, your rate of alcoholic consumption far surpasses 'once in a while'."

Mathias laughed, head tilted back and eyes crinkling at he corners. "Ya got me there, Lukas. Some people just need it a little more than others, I guess."

After this, their conversation petered off into a comfortable silence. Two boys sat side by side, watching as the setting sun glittered off the lake. Every now and then, Mathias would pick up a pebble and draw his arm back, tossing it out into the water and watching it skip over the surface. It would bounce several times before disappearing shortly into the blue. At every weak attempt, Mathias would huff through his nose, before picking up another rock, and trying again.

After a few rounds of this, Lukas – to Mathias's gleeful surprise – plucked a stone from beside him and skipped it himself.

He was, it turned out, much better at it than Mathias.

* * *

I'm sorry this wasn't very plotty, but, hey, character building is important. Please leave me a review, let me know what you thought!

I'm dorkdemark on tumblr if you want to come find me there :)


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